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French's International Coyprighted (in England, her Colonies, 

and the United States) Edition of the Works 

of the Best Authors 



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No. 232 



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4^ H IPIas In ©nc act 

4" BY 

i PRESTON GIBSON 



SUICIDES 



Adapted with permission of publisher from a 

Short Story 

BY 

LEONARD MERRICK 



Copyright, 1912, by Preston Gibson 



Price 25 Cents 



CAUTION.— Amateurs and Professionals are hereby warned 
that "Suicides" being fully protected under the copyright laws 
of the United States, is subject to royalty; and anyone pre- 
senting the play without the consent of the author or his 
authorized agent, will be liable to the penalties by law pro- 
vided. Application for the right to produce "Suicides" must 
be made to Samuel French, 

28-30 West 38th Street. New York City 



NEW YORK 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 
28-30 WEST 38th STREET 



LONDON 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 

26 SOUTHAMPTON ST. 

STRAND 



SUICIDES 



H ipias in ®ne Hct 



BY 



PRESTON GIBSON 



Adapted with permission of publisher from 
Short Story 



LEONARD MERRICK 



Copyright, 1912, by Preston Gibson 



CAUTION. — Amateurs and Professional* are hereby warned that 
"Suicides" being fully protected under the copyright laws of the 
United States. i$ subject to royalty: and anyone presenting the play 
^thout the consent of the author or his authorized agent, ^rill be 
liable to the penalties by law provided. Application for the right to 
produce "Suicides" must be made to Samuel French. 28-30 West 
38tli Street, New York City. 



New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

publisher 

28-30 WEST 38th STREET 



London 

SAMUEL FRENCH. Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street 

STRAND 






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©ao 31119 



SUICIDES 



Place. — New York City. 

Time. — Present. Fall. Late afternoon. 

Scene: Bather poorly furnished apartment with a 
large window at center in hack; a door at L. 3. 
There is a table and chair at R. 1, with a lamp 
on it. There are a few inferior pictures on the 
wall, and the whole gives the appearance of 
untidiness. It suggests the home of a man 
whose wife is most careless about domestic af- 
fairs, and who is probably thinhing more of her 
own bonnet than as to whether there are inches 
of dust on the furniture. Lights out. 

Cast: Jim Ferguson. 
Henry Blythe. 

At Eise: The curtain rises slowly and discloses the 
apartment, which is in utter darkness save for 
the light which comes in, through the window 
at center from the moon, for it is a beautiful 
clear moonlight night, crisp and cold. There 
is a gas fixture in the center, a heavy gas fixture. 
Hanging from this, at the end of a short rope, 
which is attached firmly around his neck, is a 
man. He hangs motionless as if dead, and is 
clearly outlined against the ivindow at center. 
His head has fallen down against his chest and 
his whole body is limp and corpselike. A hand 
3 



4' SUICIDES. 

is seen to appear on the window sill, then the 
shoulders and finally the head of a man. He 
looks into the room, hut can see nothing on ac- 
count of the darkness. He puts his foot over 
the window sill. It is apparent that the apart- 
ment is on, the first floor, and on the street. He 
steps into the room. He has in his hand a small 
piece of rope. He gropes his way forward and 
strikes the lody. He recoils in horror, and the 
tody swings to and fro like the pendulum of a 
great clock. The man gropes with his hands 
and again feels the tody. Great leads of cold 
sweat stand out on, his forehead as he feels and 
discovers that it is a man who has hanged him- 
self. He quickly strikes a match and holds it 
np looking at the figure of the hanged man. 
The match goes out, he picks up a chair, which 
has fallen over on the floor in front of the hang- 
': ing body. It is evident that this chair is the 
one from which the unfortunate man jumped 
after tying the rope to the gas fixture and plac- 
ing it carefully and firmly around his neck. He 
stands the chair on its feet, goes up on it, takes 
out a knife, and begins to saw the rope. He 
finally cuts same an'd lets the unfortunate man 
down into the chair on which he has just been 
standing. He loosens the rope about the man's 
throat, and the man begins to breathe, the body, 
however, kept perfectly inert. The man begins 
to reflect that it is his duty to inform the police 
of the discovery, but as he had come in through 
the window, he asks himself how he should ac- 
count for his presence on the scene. Just as he 
is considering this, he sees the stir of life. As if, 
by miracle, the man groans. 

Jim. Courage, my poor fellow, have courage! 
you are all right! You are coming around! Evi- 
dently you didn't jump far enough to break your 



SUICIDES. 5 

neck ! So your wind was shut o2 just a little, that's 
all! Youll be all right in a few minutes. (The 
man breathes more comfortably.) That's it, buck up 
now, you're coming around all right! I suppose if 
you stayed there very much longer though you would 
have cashed in. (The man, opens his eyes and looks 
about him.) 

Henry. Where am I ? 

Jim. I don't know where you are, but I know 
that you v/ould have hanged yourself if I hadn't 
arrived just in time to save your life! (Henry 
sitting up in the chair, and now feeling normal 
again, suddenly strikes out and gives Jim a terrific 
punch in the chest). 

Henry. You damned meddlesome fellow, what 
infernal cheek you have ! So you have cut me down, 
you idiot ! By what right did you poke your nose 
into my aifairs? What concern was it of yours, if 
you please, whether I hanged myself or not? Never 
in my life have I met with such a piece of presump- 
tion! 

Jim. Well, that beats anything I have ever heard, 
but, of course, you aren't yourself ! Bye and bye you 
will thank me ! 

Henry. Bye and bye I shall punch you in the 
eye, just as soon as I am feeling better ! What have 
you done to my collar, too ! I declare you have 
played the devil with me! Who are you, and what 
are you doing here anyhow? You are a trespasser! 
Perhaps a thief ! I shall have you arrested ! 

Jim. Come, come; if your misfortunes are more 
than you can stand, I am sorry that I was obliged 
to save you, but, after all, there is no need to make 
such a lot of trouble about it! You know you can 
hang yourself another day! t 

Henry. And why should I be put to the trouble 
twice? Do you figure yourself that it is agreeable 
to hang ? I passed a very bad time I can tell you ! 



6 SUICIDES. 

If you had been through it, you would not talk so 
lightly about another day! The more I think of 
your interference, the more it vexes me ! My ! How 
dark it is! Light a lamp! Light a lamp! 

Jim. I don't know where it is ! 

Henry. Over there on the table ! Don't keep me 
sitting here in the dark ! The least you can do now 
is to make me as comfortable as you can ! 

Jim. All right, here it is! {Strihes a match, 
lights up amher. The lights reveal Jim. Rather 
nice looking man of about 35 years, dressed in a con- 
ventional sack suit. The light also reveals Henry, 
who is a man of about 50 years, gray hair, rather a 
discontented face, and a huge bristling mustache. 
He is dressed in a cutaway coat that is quite shiny, 
having only one button remaining on the front arid 
one on the back. On the table is a silk hat, which 
is of a vintage of 1890, and has been rubbed more 
the wrong way than the right. He wears a red 
flower in his buttonhole. The light also reveals a 
small coil of rope, which lies near Henry's feet.) 

Henry. {Looking at rope.) What is that? 

Jim. (Looks at it; walks over and picks it up.) 
It looks like a piece of rope ! 

Henry. It wasn't here just now! 

Jim. It belongs to me! 

Henry. Why did you come in this window with 
a coil of rope, hey ? I should like to understand that ! 
(Pause. Suddenly.) You too, — you crept in here 
to hang yourself! You looked in the window, and 
you didn't see me, and you thought this place would 
do as well as any other ! The idea of your coming 
in here to commit suicide, and yet you had the nerve 
to prevent me ! 

Jim. Well, you see it was impulse! Just a 
natural impulse that would come to any one if they 
saw a man hanging ! A natural impulse to get him 
down and try to save him ! You are right, you are 



SUICIDES. 7 

right ! I came in here to hang myself because I am 
the most miserable man in the world, but I was so 
much affected by your trouble that temporarily I 
forgot my own ! 

Heney. That's a lie! I wasn't suffering! I 
wasn't conscious when you came in! Well, I want 
to tell you this, that you have some awfully nice mo- 
ments coming to you! When you feel yourself 
drop, I promise you that every hair stands erect on 
your head and each drop of blood in your veins con- 
geals to a separate icicle! It is true that the drop 
itself is quick, but the clutch of the rope, as you kick 
in the air, is much worse; and don't be encouraged 
by the delusion that the matter is instantaneous! 
Unless you break your neck you may hang there for 
half an hour before you finally die, and time mocks 
you! A second holds the sensation of a quarter of 
an hour! Tell me why you want to do it? We 
certainly need not stand on ceremony with each 
other, hey? 

Jim. I decided to kill myself because life is tor- 
ture! 

Henry. The same with me! A woman, of 
course ? 

Jim. Yes, (sighs) a woman! 

Henry. Is there no other remedy? Can't you 
desert her? 

Jim. Desert her? I am pining for her! 

Henry. Hey ? 

Jim. She will not have anything to do with me ! 

Henry. You love her? 

Jim. Nothing else! 

Henry. I took it for granted you were married ! 
Well, this is curious ! You want to die because you 
cannot get hold of a woman, and I because I cannot 
get rid of one! Let's talk things over! Give me a 
cigarette ! 

Jim. Certainly! (Pulls out a box; hands cigar- 



8 SUICIDES. 

ette; Henky iaJces one, and Jim takes one, and 
throws the box away.) My last! 

Henky. Give me a light ! (Jim strikes a match 
and they light their cigarettes.) Sit down! (They 
seat themselves comfortably, each smoking a cigar- 
ette.) I am sorry that I was so angry, but I sup- 
pose I have a bad temper! Of course I know that 
your interference was well meant! You certainly 
behaved tactlessly, and I on my side perhaps resented 
your error with too much warmth. Well, it's fin- 
ished! Is my cravat straight? You know it sur- 
prised me to hear that love can drive a man to such 
despair! Of course, I have loved too, but nothing 
to the length of the rope ! There are plenty of 
women in New York, and, if one has no heart, there 
is always another ! Don't misunderstand me ! I 
don't want to in any way dissuade you from com- 
mitting suicide because I hold that a man's suicide 
is an intimate matter in which "rescue" is a name 
given by busybodies to "gross impertinence,'^ but, as 
you have not begun the job, I feel at liberty to talk 
to you about it, and I think that you are being 
rash! 

Jim. I have considered it well! There is no 
alternative, I assure you! 

Henry. I would make another attempt to per- 
suade the lady! I swear I would make another at- 
tempt! You aren't a bad looking fellow! What is 
her objection to you? 

Jim. It isn't that she objects to me ! On the 
contrary, she likes me, but she is a woman of high 
principle! She has a husband who is devoted to 
her ! She will not break his heart ! 

Henry. Is she young? 

Jim. She is not old enough to know too much, 
and yet young enough to know too little! 

Henry. Beautiful ? 

Jim. She has a dimple in her right cheek that 



SXJICIDES. 



When she Bmiles -well-iGives a long deep sigh and 
slides down m Ms chair). ^ " 

Th^e^^' -^ "'"^u° '"^^^ ^ weakness for dimples! 
J. hats a nice combination! Young! Lovely i I 
suppose her husband doesn't appreciate her I It's al- 
ways that way ! Now, I,-but, of course, I married 
foolishly! I married an actress, but if I had it to 
do over again I would pick out a seamst ess ! 
Actresses are all right for applause, for bouquets, and 
tor little dinners, but not for marriage , ^ ' "■ 

nofTn'p.^ 4°°'* *^''' ""'* y°^ ^" -'"e particular, 
natP h!,; T r' ^'-yPf '«?<=« "i^y have been unfortu- 
nate, but I know lots of actresses that are quite as 
fine as any women in the world, and the proof of thk 
rctrt' £sS ' '''' ^'^^^ '-''' speaking^boufi^'an 

cre^t'^rasktSCp*^' '"' ^°^^^ " "^ -^^^- 

Jim. There are things one doesn't tell ' 
on. • TI* 1^1 ?^^J^^^ ^^^ y^"^ ^ave said nothing 
IZi ^\ ^" t • ^^ ^''^^ everything you have said 

about her has been most complimentary so that 

Jim. That's true! Well, she is Lillian Lee ! 
_^ Henry. (Jumps up quickly from his chair.) 

Jim. What ails you? 

Henry. My wife! 

Jim. Who ? 

Henry. Lillian Lee ! She is my wife ! 

Jim. Your wife ? Impossible ! 

Henry Well, I think I ought to know my own 
Wife! I tell you that I am married to her! To 
Lillian Lee! She is Mrs. Henry Blythe! Lillian 
i^ee IS her stage name! 

Jim. My God, what have I done? 

Henry (Clenching his fists as if he was about 
to attack Jim.) So, so, you are her lover! 

Jim. She has never encouraged me ! Remember 



10 SUICIDES. 

what I have said! You haven't any grounds for 
jealousy, and you know I am about to commit sui- 
cide because she won't have me ! 

Henry, {Suddenly changes his belligerent man- 
ner, and a smile spreads over his face.) I am not 
jealous, my dear fellow, not at all! I am simply 
amazed! (laughs) She thinks I am devoted to 
her? You see my devotion by the fact that I am 
about, or was about, to hang myself rather than live 
with her, and you, you cannot bear to live because 
you adore her ! Give me another cigarette ! 

Jim. I haven't any! (Some seconds pass while 
they smolce in silent meditation.) 

Henry. {Finishing his cigarette hy talcing the 
pin which holds his buttonhole flower, sticking it 
through the cigarette and smoking it.) Listen! 
Now, in order to clear up this complication we must 
be perfectly frank with each other. Now, as to your 
views, you want to marry my wife. Now, of course, 
I don't want to appear mercenary, but, as her hus- 
band, you must realize that it is my duty to make 
the most favorable arrangements that I can for her. 
Now, speak frankly ! 

Jim. It is rather hard for me to talk with you 
without a certain restraint because I cannot help but 
regard you as a grievance, and to be perfectly frank 
with you, I will say that if I had cut you down half 
an hour later, life would have been just that much 
nicer for me! 

Henry. Good, good ! We are progressing ! Your 
income ? Can you support her ? 

Jim. Yes. 

Henry. What do you do for a living? 

Jim. I am in Miss Lee's own profession! 

Henry. So much more congenial! What's your 
line of business? Heavy leads, ventriloquism, per- 
forming rabbits, snakes? 

Jim. My name is James Ferguson, that's all ! 



SUICIDES. 11 

Henry. James Ferguson, the great comedian? 
Now I know why your voice has been troubling me ! 

Jim. I have had a cold for the past week ! 

Henry. Oh, I don't mean that ! Familiar voice ! 
(Pulls his chair near Jim and sits quite close to him 
putting his hand on his knee.) Up to this time, I 
really have had no choice of living with my wife 
and committing suicide, because things have not gone 
very well with me, and though I have a considerable 
amount of pride, yet her salary has helped me out 
of several pretty tight places, but now you appear, 
and it simply means that I shall go away abroad, 
and you can make me — er — er — an allowance ! You 
see I am ready to do anything rather than live with 
my wife! 

Jim. This is all very well, but Miss Lee may not 
agree to it. She may still harp upon her idea of 
duty. What then? 

Henry. But you have told me that her only ob- 
jection is the fear that she would break my heart, 
but I am quite ready to tell her that for her happi- 
ness I am willing to sacrifice myself. (Rises.) I 
have a bottle of some very fine old Burgundy. How 
does a glass of it strike you? 

Jim. Oh, if you insist ! 

Henry. (Goes to cupboard, produces bottle, 
opens same; fills two glasses.) I am glad I have 
met you! Here's to your marriage! (He drinks 
his wine in one swallow and fills it again. Jim sips 
his.) You know I have quite an affection for you! 
In fact I don't know when, on such short acquaint- 
ance, I have felt so friendly towards any man. 
(Empties his glass again in one swallow and fills it.) 
Why to-night everything was black to me ! My heart 
was as heavy as a cannonball, and now the world is 
bright again ! Eoses bloom before my feet, and the 
little larks are singing in the sky ! Ah, how beauti- 
ful, how sublime is friendship! You know I once 



ig SUICIDES. . 

did a turn ! (Drinks his glass; fills it again. He is 
heginning to show genial ejfects from the wine.) 
[Friendship better than riches, than youth, than the 
love of women ! Eiches melt, youth flies, women 

snore, but friendship is A glass of wine with 

yon! (Finishes his glass, fills it again.) It goes 
well, this wine! Oh, I feel twenty years younger! 
You wouldn't believe what I have suffered ! My 
agonies would fill a book ! By nature I am a domes- 
tic sort of fellow, but my home has always been im- 
possible ! I really hate to come in here ! Why it is 
only in a restaurant that I ever see a clean table- 
cloth ! All she thinks about is frivolity ! 

Jim. Oh, no, no; I cannot agree to that! 

Henry. You can't agree! You have seen her 
when she is laced in her stage costume, with the paint 
and the powder, and her best corset on! I see her 
in a wrapper and her hair in curl papers! 

Jim. Curl papers? 

Henry. Certainly! I tell you I am naturally a 
man who takes life as it comes. I am very tolerant 
of the feelings of women, but it speaks volumes, and 
I would have hanged myself rather than remain with 
her ! Then she has a pet snake ! 

Jim. Heavens! A pet snake? 

Henry. Yes, "everything in its place" is my 
motto, and the motto of my wife is *%11 over the 
place" for this snake has shortened my life ! I never 
lay my head beside those curl papers that I am 
not afraid that snake is under the bolster, but you 
see I was not brought up in a zoological garden ! 

Jim. Oh, she'll get rid of that! 

Henry. Oh, I realize that when a man is in love 
with a woman, he always thinks the faults are with 
the husband! (Finishes his glass.) Of course I am 
not going to tell you that I am perfect; not at all; 
yet I wouldn't say that I treated my wife badly ! I 
would simply say that I was nearly perfect! 



SUICIDES. 13 

Jim. (Rising, and picking up the rope which is 
lying on the floor in front of him,) After all, do 
you know, now that I come to think it over, I am 
not sure that we will be able to come to an under- 
standing ! 

Heney. What? I suppose because I have told 
you the truth, now you want to back out! 

Jim. Well, she has spoken to me so many times 
of duty and all that, that I am beginning to believe 

that I should not rob you of her! I (Going up 

towards the window) have about made up my mind 
(steps out of the window and speaks through the 
window) — ^have about made up my mind that it 
would not be fair for me to take her away from 
you! I am going to be a man and live my love 
down ! Good-night ! 

Henry. Hey, stop! What is going to become 
of me? (Picks up the strand of rope which was 
around his neck at the rise of the curtain, and which 
was cut hy Jim, and holds it in his hand; mourn- 
fully.) You have not even left me my rope. ^ 

Jim. (throws Henky his good rope) Here is mine, 
old fellow. Better luck with it ! Good night. 

CUETAIN. 



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